Hair Washing
by TyMatthews
Summary: Douglas/Martin After an argument Douglas washes Martin's hair. (From a prompt: "Someone Douglas knows is too sick to wash themselves, he finds it relaxing when he washes other peoples hair.")
1. Chapter 1

So they had an argument. It was no excuse to run off and fake, not even remotely convincingly, a call for a job. He could have said something like, Oh, he almost forgot, but a call came while Douglas was in the toilet or something. However to fish a phone out of pocket while it obviously wasn't ringing! Douglas should be insulted. Yet he was worried. Martin had been really pissed off. The argument was nothing! It was a silly thing. Just a silly thing…

Still a storm had risen and Douglas could do nothing but wait to sort it out. The seconds were ticking at the clock and Douglas had ants travelling under his skin by the neck. Worry was rising in his stomach, not only of Martin, because really he was a grown man he could take care of himself despite being the master of being teased, but for something else too he never could really escape. Something he couldn't let him dwell on or he wouldn't get up in the mornings. The idle thought that still managed to sneak in. "What if it is me?" Born years ago. Reborn in each ending relationship he had.

However he had been so sure about this one. This time he hadn't even worked his Douglas Richardson charm directly at him. It hadn't been instant interest in Douglas's part. He hadn't let himself. Not even after the divorce or during the annoyingly long and romantic sunset on the flight over the Russia. Even if it had made Martin's face glow, hair sparkle and eyes twinkle with excitement. Not forgetting the hat. How could anyone any time possibly forget about the hat? At that moment he had thought it rather suited Martin. In a very un-suiting way. It fit him because of what a play against all the odds in the world Martin had to deal with. Constantly. Yet a captain he had made of himself, over Douglas. The all lucky and cunning Douglas.

Maybe it was him? What if Helena had started cheating because Douglas had tried to live the lie of being a captain and the lie had taken him away from her… -Nawh! He was Douglas he could handle a lie and love at the same time. Still why was it that relationships that would be for the rest of their lives turned out to be the one thing that Douglas tried to do but realised he couldn't. The one thing he was bad at.

Nevertheless it was _Martin_. He had patched enough teasing of him to know how to read him like a sign board. This time the sign had read, hidden behind not so clever ruse of dinner and breakfast and dishes, FEELING NOT WANTED OR LOVED. How could have Douglas failed so?

While waiting for a chance to fix it Douglas took up a book he had been meaning to read. Hoping it would occupy him enough while the evening darkened further still.

Martin was found in a ditch in the morning. Just around the corner. A neighbour knocked and rang on the door and asked if it was his. "Have you lost your ginger man?"

In the unforgiving hours of the morning of five and the threadbare outfit of the hermit and oldest neighbour in the hood, being forcibly woken by the person and asked about biscuits?! Douglas gave out a murderous look and was about to slam the door shut.

"I am just wondering as I found one in the ditch and he looked like yours."

"Say what?"

"What?"

Douglas's annoyance had faded, but now quickly came back. He took his jacket of the hanger put it over his dressing gown and quickly stepped into some shoes.

"Just show me."


	2. Chapter 2

Douglas had taken the groggy dog-piss smelling Captain back to his. His heart had given a frightful stutter when he had seen the ginger haired man lying in the ditch, wet from the night time rain and the still arising mist. Luckily it one of those dryer ditches.

"Martin!" Douglas had called and the captain had jerked his head in response. Eyes still tightly shut.

"Martin."

"Mmh?" Martin tossed his head forehead crinkled. Douglas looming over him as Martin opened his eyes a bit, smelling around and looking extremely confused. "'oug-ss?" He wheezed out and shut his eyes.

Now that Douglas knew he was relatively all right and alive, he took a moment to admire the picture painted before him. There was so much teasing material here and he was sure he'd get more once Martin told him the story. The _whole_ story. It was going to be marvellous.

Also he couldn't help that his heart soared at the sight of ginger hair against the green and harebells and daisies. The sun was rising creating luminous and ethereal look of this man. Martin, with hands wrapped loosely around himself on his neighbourhood ditch quickly became one of Douglas's favourite sights. Truly Martin was something off fairy tales.

On the way Martin had started nodding and at one point completely stopped walking. Sure, Douglas had been at his elbow the whole time correcting the Sir as he was so very keen on not walking straight. Or eyes open.

It had been a true chore to get Martin to wake up and get up. One that Douglas had no patience for, so he had given up and lifted the man. Though however light and short Martin is getting someone from a hole without yourself being on the same level is a battle. Even when being there with them and carrying a man it is difficult to get out. All the while being watched by the odd hermit and a cat.

Probably the event of the century to the person looking by their face.

So now almost home walking with someone who refused to walk he gave no respite to his back. Lifting the man again and steadily striding to ease out the strain on Douglas's back, he decided on a hot muscle unknitting bath.

Along the way just by the door he had to change the carrying position though. Because of his back of course. Not the bridal. Just getting Martin on his back to piggyback was much logically easier to carry as long as Martin could lean forward. Probably more dignified to the captain's humble opinion. Too bad Douglas had come up with it this late in the game. If they were to be seen they had been seen already. It wasn't the threshold and the bridal. At all.


	3. Chapter 3

This was nice. Finally slipping in the bath. Behind Martin. Martin whom with he had had a fight twelve hours ago, but Martin if he had any complaints would have to send them to him after. Anyway, Martin still was snoozing at the moment and Douglas would be damned if he had to draw the bath twice on the same morning. He'd better wake up if he was still angry at Douglas.

Otherwise Douglas was just happy to rest there. Soaking up the warmth from the bath and the feeling of skin underwater from Martin. His hands wandered and admired the body in front of him with gentle strokes. The relax form of Martin was resting against Douglas's protruding stomach and chest. Douglas felt the tension and worry letting their hold on him as he wrapped his hands around his captain and held him against him. It was like holding onto something unearthly.

As he dropped a kiss to the shoulder and nosed and nuzzled his way to the neck, he smelled it again. Piss.

Despite having taken the precaution of putting the clothes to laundry, sitting Martin down before the bath and showering him all over, it was definitely still there. Washing his hands after each measure and he was still in almost contact with it. The bath water would be contaminated with it. He had thought it had been somewhere in the body, but ignored the very unlikely and very unlucky chance of someone getting pissed on the head. Though if someone could it was Martin.

Quickly Douglas drew away and after considering it rose from the bath a bit to reach for the shampoo. He was quite not able to do that with the suction and all. So to do it he pushed Martin forward making him grunt and snap awake.

Panicked Martin glanced around and looked behind him and saw Douglas's genitals hanging before him. Directly in front of his face. Almost on his face.

The slight panic changing to squinting and puzzlement in Martin's face until recognition of what he was seeing came and he jerked back.

"Ah I see the Sir has woken."

At the sound of Douglas's voice the ginger man jerked his head up and relief was written all over the young man. The man really should get his coffee instantly in the mornings. Just how slow was he being? Douglas slid back down with the bottle in hand and upon landing was thoroughly snogged by the piss contaminated man.

However Douglas couldn't have been arsed about it at the moment. He was in the arms of his man.

On the other hand being sneezed on the face when withdrawing, he did, very much so, mind. Although the terribly apologetic hand whispering on his face and raspy sound of something like sorry from Martin, eased the irritation a little. Douglas rinsed his face with water and with determination told Martin to turn the other way again.

Cupping water with his hand Douglas poured it onto the damp mop on top of Martin's head, creating streams to run on that freckled pale neck. Martin made a huff of arrogance and made to lean forward to dunk his head, but managed open his mouth to start whining emergency warning from the war times. Forehead already touching the water and face contorted in pain he stayed in the position. Douglas couldn't stand it. So he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back like a gigantic joystick he is.

Now the good sir had decided on an impression of a very ancient and very heavy door opening, with his low rumbling voice. Douglas ran his hand down the back in front of him a few times until he poured some of that shampoo on his palm and started rubbing it from the crown to all over. He made it slow and massaging, reverencing on the locks sliding between his fingers and the scalp under Douglas's hold. So hard and so proud. So upright. However the curls were so tightly wound around themselves from place to place and with that unappreciated colour. Everything about Martin seemed to fit him so.

As the captain turned into a mass of solid goo under his hands Douglas continued with the inventory of his head. It was really nice. Sorting through strand by strand, hair by hair he was sorting through his thoughts and feelings. It was turning into inventory of both of their heads.

While kneading up with his thumbs at the neck he could suppose it was true he was jealous of Martin. Of his youth, though he wasn't doing much with it, but that was precisely the thing. As the fingers raked up and did circular motions behind the ears he could admit to himself was worried he was one mistake more on Martin's list. That Martin was just too damn proud to admit it to himself.

After all the obvious hesitating he had had on his face for months before approaching Douglas with his feelings. The first officer had begun to be seriously worried of Martin. Until he realised it was only around him the strangeness in Martin's behaviour intensified. Whilst rubbing the foamy hair up making sticky uppy art of it he thought how he had been almost sure the captain was approaching him because the captain had gotten an offer from the Swiss Airways and wanted to say goodbye. Douglas had been convinced that was it. All the signs pointed in that way.

However a love confession? While Douglas thought the Supreme Commander was still dating the Princess? No Douglas hadn't thought that would happen. Not whilst being cited to of regulations and rules any less, he recollected. Shaking his head, not the most romantic of ways to ask anyone on a date. Using Douglas's knees as armrests Martin was from time to time idly smoothing the hair on Douglas's legs. It had been the Martin way.

So, no. Douglas smoothed the uppy bits again. It was the late June and Douglas had been with Martin since the May Day and no, Douglas wasn't at all sure he wasn't a mistake in Martin's life. Perhaps a rebound or compensation for not getting the job. Yet all be damned he loved the man. So, no, Douglas wasn't at all sure and he had made gamble. Betting on the unluckiest man he knew.

The Sky God and Icarus.

Now creating a beautiful mohican look for Martin, Douglas smiled. Feeling strangely calm albeit bitter-sweet. He remembered what he had seen in Martin's face when Douglas had agreed on a date, or rather when Martin had realised Douglas had done that. Captain Martin Crieff could fumble and stutter all right.

Yet again cupping water to rinse the hair, painfully starting to feel the awkwardness of the position. His shoulders were constricted by the wall behind him, his arms could only move in front of him and his back was moulding itself to the round shape of the tub. Still there at the tea shop they had started. Douglas reading from Martin's face pure amazement, wonder, humbleness and insecurity. As if Martin wasn't worthy of Douglas's affirmation. The reaction set the deal for Douglas, it and the love Martin had gazed at him with when beginning The Asking. Oh, it was a whole event and a show. He wished he had had popcorn.

Still it baffled how Douglas had been so wrong about the Swiss Airways. He had been _sure_. So sure he had looked for jobs and warned Carolyn. Even scheming the backup plan of flying with Herc the Berk on MJN air.

Nevertheless it was getting too much on his back so Douglas rose from behind Martin splish splashing out after making that horrifying noise of skin being suctioned against the tub. He took the stool Martin previously had unknowingly sat on and continued his work. Martin had begun to nod off again. Stifling his own yawn he silently wondered how Martin could sleep in upright positions.

Although there was still foam there Douglas decided it was enough rinsing and started on the conditioner. It was one Martin had chosen. An excellent choice too Douglas might add to reassure Martin.

Like wise it had been Douglas who had to reassure Martin when he had quickly begun to doubt the agreement that they were going on a date. It had hurt. However Douglas didn't show him that, Douglas wondered making quick job out of the spreading of the conditioner. Any of it. Remaining the sure and confident almost throughout the relationship. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Alas the realisation of his own character didn't bring him joy, he thought as he took the shower head. It really had been his fault all along. Starting the water and tilting Martin's head, he knew he was lost as to how to be less of a god. Romantic he could do and caring, even ridiculous at times. He was grumpy, irritable and melancholic sometimes. He cut the spray of water.

By contrast no one but Douglas got to see the vulnerable side that was locked behind his mind. He supposed, starting to feel chilly naked and he woke up Martin, it was a skill he could invest some time to acquire. He towelled both of them. Finding it extremely funny how sleepy Martin could stand there probably asleep again and jiggle about with Douglas's drying movements. Hands like gum strings by Martin's side and head lolling.

-

Eventually they were walking, both dressed in dressing gowns, towards Douglas's bedroom. However just before stepping through the open door Douglas put a hand on Martin's arm to halt him. Martin looked worried at him back, but was soon all wide eyed and laughing merrily as Douglas swooped him into his arms and stepped over the threshold. Sporting embarrassed red spots Martin looked very much delighted.

Carrying him to bed and flopping down there with him, Douglas was pulled into the arms of Martin. Smooched around Douglas's face, kissed silly on the lips and again on the face like gentle flowery rain, he begun to feel his lock breaking. Recalling his resolve from before he decided to open it before the lock broke.

After all he didn't know where to get a new one when the need be. This deal was only for his ginger man, he thought as tears begun to drop from half open eyes. He closed them further. It was awful, he thought. Absolutely awful. No wonder he hadn't done this before. As he begun to turn his face away from Martin's sight he was stopped by a gentle hand on a cheek.

"Douglas." He heard Martin's voice, clearly expecting Douglas to look at him. Douglas would be damned if he turned into some shy crying middle aged man, he was already three of those four.

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes and the sarcasm slipping of his tongue, the nature that it was to him.

For a moment looking unsure, Martin softened his gaze again and said "For you I'd even cut my waxy wings". He leaned down to kiss the tears tracks off the cheeks and Douglas idly wondered just how little sleep had Martin had.

Finally, as he closed his eyes again to sleep, he supposed he could let Martin reassure him every once in awhile.


End file.
